


Tube Socks and Dirty Talk

by ElwritesFanworks



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: 70s Slang, 70s pornos, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bad Dirty Talk, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Established Relationship, Hank still owns a VCR, Jock Straps, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Post-Canon, Pubic Hair, Silly, Socks, This idea would not leave my head, headcanons i guess, i don't even know what to call this, idk it's just some gay shit i came up with i'm sorRY, it's all the lead up to sex without any sex, playing fast and loose with plot, spelling things the canadian way, there's no actual sex for once, they're living together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 17:17:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15344664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElwritesFanworks/pseuds/ElwritesFanworks
Summary: Connor tries to give Hank a kinky surprise...





	Tube Socks and Dirty Talk

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry

Hank Anderson was his own person. It was an expression Connor had overheard once, somewhere, which he thought perfectly suited the detective. His own person. He had his own likes and dislikes, and the backbone to challenge those who tried to compromise him. Since becoming a Deviant, Connor liked to think, privately, that he was his own person too.

One of his favourite things about the human was his eclectic taste in entertainment, from the intensity of his heavy metal to the books he read – some of them being made of real paper no less. Since moving in, Connor made an effort to learn as much as he could about the man’s interests – both the ones he shared and the ones he kept hidden away. It had helped when they became intimate, after many protestations about one-sidedness and ‘looking like a dirty old man’ from Hank. It had also helped when Connor had offered to tidy up around the house in his days off (as he waited for his reapplication to the police force to be processed now that he legally had personhood,) and Hank had grunted and said ‘do whatever you want.’ What Connor wanted was to learn about Hank, and cleaning the house gave him unprecedented opportunities to do so.

Since he’d started cleaning, he’d found and handful of things that interested him: a novelty birthday card from a decade ago which showed a squirrel standing on its hind legs, revealing a poorly photoshopped comedically large scrotum, a cigar trimmer, a scorpion suspended inside a resin paperweight, a t-shirt from a taco eating contest, and a cardboard box buried deep in the back of Hank’s closet, resting on top of an ancient, dust-caked machine.

Connor studied it curiously. He knew what it was, theoretically, but he’d never seen one before. It was a VCR, and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it that a wipe down with a rag wouldn’t fix. The cardboard box wasn’t labelled, but the tape that held it together was discoloured with age. Connor supposed it was the same vintage as the VCR.

Intrigued, Connor cleaned off the worst of the dust and hooked the VCR up to Hank’s TV, pleased the attachment still worked. He then brought the box over, opened it, and found himself faced with a stack of tapes and a few old magazines. He removed a magazine and turned it over, brow furrowed.

It was pornographic in nature – this was hardly a surprise as a quick scan revealed the pages to be stuck together in places with seminal fluid – Hank’s, from some time long ago. It was entirely focused on men – something that, again, was no surprise, as Hank had told him shortly after they’d first gotten together that he’d always been as attracted to men as to women, but tended to indulge his bisexuality in fantasies only, as it had always been more socially acceptable to date women. Connor had made a mental note to ask Hank if his parents had been intolerant of his sexual orientation, as for a man of his age and background Connor would have expected a typical millennial attitude towards such diversity, but the opportunity had not arisen to ask since and the current success rate, Connor reasoned, would be in the low 30s at best.

What startled Connor about it all was that Hank would turn to pornography that, to the best of his knowledge, appeared to date from the late 1970s. It was before the detective’s time. There was no reason for him to have any interest in it that Connor could think of – paying for pornography when Hank came of age in the era of free and easy access to all the smut the internet had to offer.

Hoping the tapes would offer further insight, Connor chose one at random and popped it into the machine. It clunked and whirred but soldiered through, and the screen came to life, speakers playing a funky soundtrack interspersed with gratuitous moaning.

The wood-panelled walls, the fireplace, the bearskin rug, the whole scene was like a historical primary source. The men in the video were fit and fairly hairy, engaging in a sexual position Hank had instructed Connor in called, colloquially, ’69’ – they were fellating each other. The redhead wore running shorts, tugged down to his mid-thighs, and tube socks. The brunette wore a jock strap, lowered just enough to tuck behind his balls, freeing them and his bare, cut cock.

They took breaks from fellating to one another to jerk each other off and talk dirty. The dirty talk was incredibly dated, but still had a certain appeal.

_“Fuck, Jon, I’ve never seen a hogleg like yours. Your fuck muscle’s one hell of a womb-sweeper.”_

_“My wife can’t take the whole thing. Fuck, Terry, your mouth feels like heaven on my meat axe. Damn.”_

_“I can take the whole thing, lemme try – take you all the way down to your nutsack, ‘til you feel my moustache against your bush.”_

Connor watched, impressed, as the man proved true to his word. That was not an easy thing to do for a human with their needing to breathe and their gag reflexes. He cocked his head, squinting at the technique as the man hummed and sucked and bobbed up and down.

 _“Gimme that hot load, man,”_ ‘Terry’ said, pulling back and nuzzling up against the head of the man’s cock. _“Shoot right on my moustache.”_

‘Jon’ did, and Terry followed soon after. Connor took a moment to consider the pornographic video industry before the advent of the AIDS crisis. He and Hank used condoms out of habit – Hank’s habit, as Connor had never tried sex before they became lovers. He always assumed Hank did it because he wanted to, but it could be he just simply didn’t realize Connor couldn’t give him anything. There were prophylactics provided at android sex clubs sometimes, but that was only so that one man didn’t accidentally dip his wick in another man’s jism and wind up with V.D. Connor made a soft sound of pleasure – he had imagined that as said in Hank’s voice, and the idea of Hank talking to him about anything of a sexual nature tended to raise his core temperature these days.

Slowly, an idea began to take shape in Connor’s head. He wasn’t used to imagination, entirely, but Hank told him to explore his new capacity for deep thought, so here he was, exploring. He placed an order, LED blinking yellow as the transaction went through, then heard Sumo scrambling for the door, and a key turning in the lock. Hank was home.

With a speed and grace that betrayed his inhumanity, Connor returned the VCR and the tapes to the back of Hank’s closet, pushing some other random items in front of them for good measure, before walking to the door to greet the man he loved. He leaned in and participated in a warm, welcoming kiss, before pulling away to begin preparing dinner.

* * *

“You done in there, kid?”

“Just a minute!”

Connor took the opportunity to study himself one last time. The jock strap made his ass – which he knew Hank liked – look and feel obscene. It made his genitals look bigger than his standard briefs, too. The thin triple stripes on his tube socks were the same blue as the blush that warmed his cheeks. He wiggled his upper lip, not used to the feeling of facial hair. The adhesive wasn’t designed for synthetic skin but he hoped it would hold long enough to make his point.

“You don’t even need to use the damn bathroom – what’s taking so long? If you don’t come out I’m gonna piss in the kitchen sink.”

“Do _not,”_ Connor snapped, alarmed. “I’m coming out now – close your eyes.”

“For the love of –”

“Close them, Hank. Pretty please?”

“Don’t do the baby talk thing,” he grumbled, but as Connor stepped out into the hall, his eyes were closed. Connor slipped past him and hurried to the bedroom, calling over his shoulder when it was safe for Hank to look again.

After the human had finished in the bathroom, he padded over to the closed bedroom door and knocked.

“Can I come in?”

He sounded amused. Connor struggled not to smile – he liked smiling, he liked when Hank made him smile, but he needed to look stoic and rugged now.

“Go ahead,” he replied. Hank opened the door and froze, dumbfounded.

“Want to give me a taste of Mr. Hogleg, lieutenant?”

Hank reacted with a sudden and unstoppable outburst of laughter.

“Connor,” he wheezed, wiping his eyes, “the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m appealing to your secret love of 1970s skin flick sleaze,” he said, a little petulant. He arched his back, pushing his bare ass towards his human partner. “I want your thick tool in my greedy hole now, detective.”

“Hang on a minute. Back up. My secret love of what?”

“Your pornography collection. There’s vintage and then there’s _vintage._ I just thought…”

Connor trailed off, faltering, and scratched at the moustache. The adhesive refused to stick properly and it slid to one side, dangling off his face.

“You… you set all this up because of some old tapes?”

Hank was struggling to process it all.

“You kept them. I thought… I thought they meant something to you.”

Connor couldn’t help it if his eyes looked doe-ish and mournful. He sounded hurt. He felt hurt, he guessed, though he couldn’t always read his emotions perfectly as they were still fairly new. Hank shook his head and sat down on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.

“I honestly didn’t remember I still had those,” he admitted.

“But you liked them once.”

“Hell, I still do, probably. I just haven’t thought about them in years.”

“Why do you like them?” Connor asked, puzzled. “If you’re not into it for the dialogue or the facial hair, then what?”

“I’ll let you in on a secret – no one likes porn for the dialogue,” Hank replied, scratching his chest through the soft fabric of his worn t-shirt. “As for why… well… my sexual awakening, such as it was, happened when I found my dad’s porn stash when I was… I don’t know, twelve or so? They were all old-school nudie mags… with women, obviously, but I liked how everything looked. I liked that everyone had pubic hair, for a start – plus I could look at the magazines without getting caught on the family computer – we only had the one and it was in the family room, so I couldn’t exactly beat off without getting caught. Guess I made a bit of an association back then… kind of a nostalgia thing. Honestly I watched them as much for that as for the actual fucking. Plus there were some ways in which they were just… I dunno… more escapist than the porn of my generation.”

Connor considered this, LED flickering yellow.

“Do you like the thought of unprotected sex, Hank?”

“Sure,” he blushed. “Who doesn’t?”

“You can – with me. I can’t give you anything. You could just… what’s the expression? Cream my pie?”

“Jesus,” Hank replied, heart-rate rising. “You’re shit at dirty talk.”

“But I’ve been practicing,” Connor ventured impishly. “I’ve been thinking about your fuck muscle for days.”

“Stop,” he laughed. “Fuck.”

“I want to.”

“Alright, alright. Since you went to so much trouble, I guess I could –”

Hank paused when the sound system turned on, a porno groove playlist filling the room with a raunchy, wah-wah pedal heavy melody.

“You really went all out on this, huh?” he laughed, a bit more breathless than before.

“Of course. I want you to get your kicks, to use me like the little dick-chewer I am. Pop your wad for me, stud. Gimme your face-cream –” Connor looked up, pausing in his recitation of lines delivered flatly, uncertain, as Hank rose back up to his feet. He tugged his shirt up and over his head and thumbed open the button on his jeans, grinning down at the android.

“You’re lucky that cheesy dirty talk is one of my biggest kinks,” he leered. “Dick-chewer, huh? What sewer’d you dig that one out of? More importantly, what else’ve ya got?”

“Cover me in your baby paste –”

“Okay, okay, enough. You win,” Hank laughed, and fell upon Connor – a warm weight, big hands, a hot mouth on his throat.

Connor liked to think that they both won, in the end.


End file.
